Travels in Time
by Athelstan
Summary: Grantaire, a diner owner finds a rip in the space-time continuum in his supply closet. He calls it the "Rabbit Hole" and it transports him into the late 1950's. At first, he is shocked, but then asks himself this: what if I can change history? Eventual E/R relationship.


**A/N: Time travel AU because why the fuck not? I took a few liberties with the storyline, using a lot of Stephen King's time travel mythos from _11/22/63. _The crossover that isn't really a crossover? Anyway, enjoy. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do.  
**

Travels in Time

Chapter One: The Rabbit Hole

Grantaire could smell the sulphur even before he unlocked the door of the diner.

"Shit," he muttered, fumbling the key into the slot and jacking the door open quickly. He dropped the bag of apples he was carrying and rushed to the back, praying that he didn't have a gas leak. He checked all the lines; they were intact. He scratched his head. Nobody used sulphur in this area of Michigan anymore; the last known thing to run on sulphur in the state was the old weaving mill from the 50's. He shrugged. The sulphur smell was probably coming from the river, which had god knows how many chemicals poisoning it. He went back to the front, picked up the bag of apples he dropped and carried them back into the kitchen.

"What is that _nasty_ smell?" A voice called from the front of the diner. "Grantaire, did you try to cook a roast using gasoline?" It was Éponine, Grantaire's best friend and co-owner of the small diner.

"Very funny, 'Ponine." Grantaire called from his place in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and throwing them into a pot of simmering broth. "But no, the smell's just been hanging around all morning. It's probably the river."

Éponine grinned at him as she walked in, tying her hair back and throwing on her apron. She hummed quietly to herself as she set up her cutting board and sashayed around the kitchen.

* * *

At six thirty, the diner was dead. Empty chairs sat haphazardly around empty tables, which were littered with napkins and wrappers. Grantaire had let Éponine go at six so she could get home and feed her four siblings. He knew that meant he'd have to clean the restaurant and wipe down the kitchen himself, but he also knew that 'Ponine needed to take care of her brothers and sisters because her parents weren't around much. He sighed, pushed his stool back from the bar and walked into the back where they kept the cleaning supplies. Even though he had gotten used to the sulphuric smell as the day went on, the stench grew stronger as he got nearer to the supply closet. He wrinkled his nose and opened the door, only to be blasted by the scent of bleach and sulphur. The combination made his eyes water, but he still ventured in.

As he neared the back where the mops were kept, his foot hit a dip in the floor and he surged forwards, letting out a (manly) shriek and windmilling his arms wildly. He regained his balance and looked down. What he saw almost made him faint. His leg seemed to be standing on a step that was ingrained into the floor.

He opened and closed his mouth, stunned. He lowered his other leg onto the "step" and shuffled forwards slightly. He almost fell again as he tipped on the edge, but he readjusted himself and stepped down with one foot cautiously. He hit another "step" and the sulphur smell grew stronger. A faint sound also reached his ears; it sounded like…a mill. Alight with curiosity and fear, Grantaire ventured forward again. His foot hit another "step" and suddenly his eyes were being burned out of their sockets by the sun. The sound he had heard earlier was now jacked up to a roar that sounded like _shat-HOOSH, shat-HOOSH_. He cracked open an eyelid and shielded his eyes with one of his hands. A hand lettered sign that was stuck to a stake stood before him. It read: "_NO ADMITTANCE UNTIL SEWER PIPE IS REPAIRED._" Grantaire shook his head and dug his nails into his palm, certain this was a dream. He lowered his hand and peered into the distance. A huge mill loomed on the landscape, protected by a fence. The sign on the side of the monstrous building proclaimed it the "MacIntosh Family Weaving and Textile Mill." The very same mill that had stood there fifty five years ago.

* * *

Thoroughly distressed, yet insatiably curious, Grantaire plodded forward. He weaved his way through the construction equipment, hopping over pipes and trying not to trip on toolboxes. He passed by a table that had been abandoned by some workers. He saw a folded up newspaper sitting on one of the chairs, and he snatched it up. The dateline on the top of the front page read: _June 23__rd__, 1958. _

* * *

**Yes, I am the loser that wanted to write a time travel AU. **

**School is winding down for me, so now I'll have more time to write! I plan for this to be a leviathan of a story, just a warning. **

**If you liked it, please tell me what you liked. If you hated it, please tell me why! I always love feedback!**

**-Paige**


End file.
